My American Dream(boat)
by psycholinguist
Summary: Romano comes home one night drunk out of his mind. America does everything possible to keep him safe, but Romano is making things hard.


_A/N: the result of some really laid back rp-ing and hc discussions_

_obviously i don't own anything here but the story_

* * *

He knew something was off about Romano the minute he heard Gilbert's laughter and didn't hear Romano's cursing following Gil's distinctive laugh. Instead he heard more laughter as the Bad Friends Trio and Romano opened the door. Prepared for the worst, Alfred tightened his jaw as he was greeted by three extremely drunk nations and a sober, tired looking, irritated France.

"Here is your Italian, safe and sound...," announced Francis as he shoved an oddly happy man at Alfred, who tutted at the nation in his arms, "well, he's safe at any rate... I have more 'deliveries' to make, so, au revoir!"

Alfred shouted his thanks at the retreating back of the Frenchman, who was pulling the other two behind him, and closed the door. He let go of the dark haired nation and watched as South Italy swayed where he stood. Exactly how drunk he was was anyone's guess, but Alfred figured he must be really plastered if Romano was able to keep a civil tongue around Gilbert for so long. Romano turned around and staggered toward the living room, fumbling to undress himself with every step he took. Alfred felt sorry for France, knowing he was dealing with two more drunkards by himself.

"I guess Francis drew the short straw tonight," muttered Alfred as he followed the trail of clothing, picking the garments up as he walked to the living room. He dumped the coat, vest, and tie on the nearest couch and sighed in disapproval as he watched his drunken boyfriend struggle with the buttons on his shirt.

"Oh, hey there, hero," slurred Romano, "come to save me from these evil clothes?"

Alfred winced as his boyfriend giggled to himself; Romano was in for one hell of a hangover tomorrow morning...

"You're really drunk, aren't you?" he asked. Romano succeeded in removing his shirt without tearing any buttons and was now attempting to remove his belt and pants.

"And you're really attractive," said the southern Italian in a husky voice. He gave up on his pants for a moment and attempted to strike a seductive pose that was ruined somewhat by him stumbling forward into the coffee table. Alfred stifled a laugh and approached the coffee table Romano was leaning over.

"Damn 'Mano, how much did you drink?" Alfred asked as he helped the brunet to the couch.

"I won, that's all that matters," giggled Romano, "Now I want my prize!" He attempted to kiss the blond man but ended up kissing a pillow Alfred had lifted up in panic.

"Whoa there, cowboy," he said behind his cushion, "I ain't gonna take advantage of you while you're this intoxicated."

"Oh god, I love it when you talk southern to me," gasped Romano. He tried to wrest the pillow away from Alfred, but to no avail; behind his makeshift shield Alfred tried to avoid reacting to Romano's words and tone, a feat that was proving more and more difficult as the Italian gave up on the pillow and began tracing slow circles on Alfred's thighs.

"Romano," said Alfred as sternly and as clearly as he could manage, "you're very drunk right now and not in your right mind. I will not take advantage of you in this state, do you understand?" He lowered his pillow to punctuate his statement with a glare.

Instead his eyes widened in shock as Romano's hand finally made it to Alfred's groin where once nimble fingers slipped over the zipper and button of his jeans.

"Mmn, and I love it when you take charge," mumbled the inebriated Mediterranean nation.

"R-Romano!" exclaimed the American, "I'm serious!"

"Really? I thought you were Alfred," laughed Romano as he removed his hands from his significant other's pants to slap his knee, "Hello Serious!"

Alfred gave a snort of laughter and rolled his eyes. "Really 'Mano? You're telling dad jokes? You must be really really drunk"

"I might be drunk, but you're blurry," said the trashed nation as he squinted at Alfred, "It's ok, I love you even if you're blurry." He smiled sweetly at his American. Alfred's steely resolve was breaking.

"Ok, time for bed!" announced the boisterous blond, immediately regretting his word choice as his better half gave him a seductive wink that turned into a slow, uncoordinated blink and started fumbling with his belt buckle again.

"It's about goddamn time," Romano growled as he got up and continued the fight with his belt, "Now help me with this stupid thing!"

"Uh, sure... Let's just go to the bedroom first," said Alfred, thinking fast as he put down the pillow shield, "Ah, be careful, dude!" He stood up quickly to catch the toppling Italian from crashing once more into the table.

"Who put that table there?" grumbled the Italian man. He bent down and rubbed his hurt shin.

"You did, when we moved in...come here," said Alfred as he scooped Romano up into his arms. He grimaced. Romano's breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were unfocused.

"Whoa, we're flying!" shouted the shorter nation gleefully. He threw his arms around Alfred's neck and nuzzled his chest as the sober blond started climbing the stairs quickly.

"We sure are 'Mano," smiled Alfred. Who knew getting four kinds of drunk would unlock such a sweet, dopey southern Italian? "Whoa! Hey, watch the hands!" Correction: a sweet and handsy southern Italian. One of Romano's hands had drifted downwards to Al's backside, making Alfred jump in surprise.

"I just wanted to thank my superman," grinned the dark haired nation, still slurring his words, "My big, strong, handsome hero."

Alfred stopped in front of the bedroom door, a large blush racing across his face. He glanced at the wasted, half naked nation in his arms who stopped his nuzzling and looked up at Alfred, confused. His blushing face must've given the inebriated nation a clue about Alfred's feelings though, because Romano looked back down and stared at Alfred's neck, a soft blush of his own reddening his already flushed face.

"What," mumbled the Italian, playing with the collar of Al's shirt, "did I say something embarrassing or something?" He smoothed out the collar, and unbuttoned the shirt slowly, as if he were afraid to get caught. Alfred, startled into action by Romano's cold fingers on his chest, shook his head and continued his mission to get his sweetheart to bed safely. He opened the door and gently removed the hand dancing its way to his nipple as he lowered him onto the bed.

Alfred bustled about, laying out painkillers and water on the nightstand nearest Romano and an empty trash can, just in case. He made the mistake of bending over to pick up the shoes Romano had kicked off and had his butt pinched as a result.

"Hey! What did I say about those hands," yelped the American as he pitched forward onto the floor.

"Is it my fault your ass is so damn perfect?" giggled the man on the bed. He sat up to watch Alfred pick himself up from the floor and suppressed another laugh. America looked at him oddly.

"You are really gonna regret drinking that much tomorrow morning," he warned, "Come on, time for you to go to sleep."

"No," pouted the Italian. He crossed his arms petulantly and squinted as if he were trying to focus onto a particularly blurry object.

"What do you mean 'no'?" asked the American nation bemusedly. The Italian man's fickle attitude was confusing him.

"It's what I said, isn't it?" Romano grumbled from his spot on the bed, "I still want my prize."

Alfred sighed and headed towards the bathroom to brush his teeth; Romano's intoxicated state gifted his normally shrewd and surly boyfriend with a one track mind. "'Mano, dude, we already talked about this. I said no, okay? It would most definitely be unheroic to take advantage of you. If you want, we can do it tomorrow when you're not so... out of it. But not tonight." Silence then loud, grating snores followed his words. "'Mano?" He peeked out of the bathroom and looked at the bed.

Drunk and exhausted, South Italy finally succumbed to sleep. He had fallen back on his pillow with his arms still crossed and a frown that was slowly smoothing out into a peaceful expression. Alfred neared the bed to pull him onto his side and straighten out his arms.

"You're incredible, you know that 'Mano?" whispered Alfred affectionately. His jostling woke up the sleeping nation, who yawned hugely and looked at him with bleary eyes. Alfred froze.

"I love you so much," murmured the drunk and sleepy nation with a smile, "so so much. I love you, my American dreamboat, my blond superman, I love you." He trailed off into silence and resumed his snoring, leaving Alfred alone to process what had been said.

"Goodnight 'Mano," Alfred breathed. His face was cherry red, but he couldn't have been happier. He carefully brushed back Romano's hair and placed a gentle kiss on the other's forehead, "I love you too." He straightened up and walked back to the bathroom to continue getting ready for bed.

"Ugh, my head," groaned the hung over nation from his place near the toilet. His head was swimming, his eyes were watery, and his mouth tasted of bile. He flushed the toilet for the third time, refusing to look at the contents as they swirled away. He'd woken up late, made use of a conveniently located trash can, and attempted to lie back down only to rush to the bathroom, gagging, moments later. "What the hell happened last night?"

"You got wasted, dude," laughed Alfred. The Italian jumped and swore under his breath.

"Bastard, how long have you been standing there?" he asked as he quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "And what do you mean I got wasted? I don't drink excessively."

"Just for a little while, I came to wake you up and tell you your cure is ready," said Alfred. He fiddled with a thread on his shirt, not meeting the brunet's hazel eyes. He was still feeling butterflies from last night's love proclamation. "And you did get super trashed last night, like, crashing-into-things, let's-get-naked, full on drunk." At this the blond looked at the kneeling nation and grinned.

Romano paled. "I didn't... You... I mean, we... W-what did I say?"

"We didn't have sex, if that's what you're trying to ask," Alfred stated, "not for lack of trying on your part, though. As for what you said..." He trailed off, smiling broadly like a fool in love.

"Oh God, what did I say?" moaned Romano as he stood up. He shambled to the sink and began furiously brushing his teeth, desperate to get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. Drying his mouth on a hand towel, he glared at the blond standing in the doorway as if to say "well? Get on with it!"

Recognizing his cue, Alfred launched into a quick retelling of last night's events. He was particularly detailed when describing Romano's seduction attempts, which made the other nation redden with chagrin.

"And then you said the sweetest things," gushed the American, "which is how I knew you were, like, five shades of drunk." He laughed loudly, though his face was painted by a blush of his own.

"Bullshit," spat the still red nation, "I would never say such sappy crap."

"Yuh huh," said the fair haired man smugly, "you were sweeter than a sugar cube dipped in honey."

The Italian stomped past his boyfriend and out of the bathroom, intending to bury himself in pillows and blankets for the rest of the day. Alfred grabbed his hand before he could launch himself into the bed and tried to get Romano to look him in the eye. Romano fixed a glare at the bed sheets instead of looking at the big blue eyes gazing at him lovingly.

"I know you're embarrassed," began the blond, "hell, I'm kinda embarrassed, myself, but what you said... I dunno, it just... made me feel really happy, y'know? I know you love me and you have your way of showing you care, but it's nice to hear you say it out loud too." He let go of the other's hand then and looked to the side as hazel eyes scrutinized the blond.

Romano, feeling a little self-conscious, stepped closer to the American and pulled him down a little to place a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips. "Don't ever doubt how much I love you," he said as he pulled away, face flushed a light pink.

"You're such a sap," laughed the blue eyed nation. His beloved glared and huffed, and Alfred threw his arms around him in a tight embrace, "but I love that about you."

"Yeah, yeah, get off me," grumbled the shorter man, disengaging himself from the other's strong arms. "No, seriously, get off me. I still feel like shit, and I probably smell even worse. I want a really hot shower right now...and maybe some aspirin."

"Oh I laid out some for you last night," offered the blond, "I remember, 'cause afterwards you pinched my butt and called it perfect." Romano, who had begun searching for a fresh pair of boxers in his dresser, froze and gripped a pair of socks too tight as Alfred spoke. "You sure were handsy last night; I was kinda worried you were gonna jump me." He laughed as Romano covered his face with his hands.

"You're lying," came the muffled response.

"Nope!" said the younger man happily, "your 'big, strong, handsome hero' wouldn't lie about that." He smiled wider as Romano removed his hands and started gathering up his clothes quickly.

"You're a fucking liar, and I never said that!" shouted the southern Italian, flustered and red; he could hear his American lover trying to stifle his laughter. He gave up on finding a shirt and ran to the bathroom, a laughing blond chasing after him.

"What, you don't believe your- what was it? Oh!- your 'American dreamboat'!" shouted Alfred as Romano slammed the bathroom door.

"Shut up!" shrieked the mortified nation. He slid down against the door, burying his head in his arms. "Holy crapola! I'm never accepting a drinking challenge from that albino potato fucker ever again!"

* * *

_A/N: hahaha.. sorry i forgot a few things when i first uploaded this thing ^^;; bUT it's all better now~_


End file.
